


I've Been Looking (But I Didn't Know You Were, Too)

by kyaappucino



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Breathplay, Canon-Typical Violence, Choking, Drug Use, Extortion, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Sex Worker Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Sex-Favorable Asexual Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Slow Build Alastor/Angel Dust
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:21:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29789097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyaappucino/pseuds/kyaappucino
Summary: It was meant to be a simple job, honestly. Lucifer wanted to know why his men were relinquishing their business empires to Valentino and Vox, of all the Demon Overlords.They all had one thing in common: they all made a (discreet) appointment to meet with Valentino.Lucifer sends Alastor, the King's Stag, to investigate. Surely, of all the demons, the one least interested in sex could get it done.
Relationships: Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 42





	I've Been Looking (But I Didn't Know You Were, Too)

**Author's Note:**

> Here's an AU i've been thinking about since last year ;w; eventual RadioDust, they just have to...meet up. I have roughly outlined five chapters of this AU so far. Let's see where it goes ;w;
> 
> Explanations and additional tags: Oral sex (between human!Al and human!Angel), extortion, Val's possessive behavior, alcohol, drugs, smoking, a lot of emotions, implied domestic violence, implied rape/non-con (Valentino, but nothing explicit) murder, blood (and injuries. Angel gets a lot of them)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel Dust is employed as one of Valentino's most expensive escorts, and powerful men paid greatly for a session of _healing_. 
> 
> Their fears, anxieties, and guilt, erased in one night. 
> 
> Who wouldn't want that?

Why Valentino thought it was appropriate to _drag_ Angel Dust out of bed on a Sunday afternoon was beyond him. The curtains were drawn and the sun hadn't even fully set yet.

Fucker. Way too early.

"Regulars don't wait for you to put your fuckin' panties on, baby. You think a powerful man's gonna give a damn about your schedule?" His pimp-- _no, Monsieur_ \--'s heels click-clacked on the dark parquet floor and paused beside Angel's bed. Out of habit, the porn--escort sat up but the covers remained, covering the rest of his stomach and lower half. Angel blinked the sleep away from his eyes. 

_"Way too early to talk to Valentino."_

Valentino seemed to sense the sluggishness and tilted Angel's chin up with one claw, mouth clamped on his signature cigarette. "A client wants ya at the speakeasy down on Dahmer Avenue. Ten. Can ya get yerself ready in four hours, baby doll?"

The mocking lilt in his voice caused the spite running through Angel's veins to spark anew. The escort exhaled, a tiny puff of air in the cool room. Angel wrinkled his nose and took it all in. Valentino was wearing his absurdly expensive perfume _again_ , and Angel's room was already overwhelmed with the scent of bitter almonds, leather, and cashmerean. It smelled like the first time he was wrapped in the moth's extravagant overcoat, and he'd thought,

_"This must be what power smells like. What it's like to not be Exterminated."_

Over the years, the scent had practically permeated his epidermis as Valentino shed his clothing and pushed him down toward the bed, the floor, the table, _anything_ nearby to satiate himself after a particularly successful shoot. Or a stressful day.

But beneath that was the underlying current of thunder and static. Vox. Ever since he dropped down in hell, his nose had only gotten more sensitive. When Angel settled into his demon form, he discovered that without his boots (or stockings) he could smell everything, like a cat. 

Or an overly ambitious perfumer.

Lazily, Angel Dust turned his head and answered. "I'll be ready in three, Daddy."

"What's that?" Valentino inhaled deep before breathing out a long, crimson line of smoke. It shot straight for the porn star, wrapped around his throat, and caressed his chin before it melted into his skin. In response, the heart and stripes on his fur glowed a deep pink, tingling in the _best_ way. "You can do better than that, can't cha, angelcakes?" 

Despite himself, he let out a breathy moan, his legs already spread beneath the covers. Valentino's hot-pink sunglasses and shark teeth seemed exceedingly satisfied. 

"I'll be in the car in two." As much as he hated Valentino, his monsieur knew how to keep him compliant. After all, he spent most of his career breaking in new whores.   
"That's what Daddy likes ta hear. Y'always know what I want, Angie." 

_"Yeah, 'cause you'd make it happen anyway, ya prick."_ The tattoo beneath his fur burned as the smoke filled him--enough to access at least one memory from his Topside life. He hoped it would be a good one, this time. 

"Ain't that why I'm yer number one whore, Daddy?" It was like reading off of a script, the words rolling off his tongue in waves. There was no guilt or anger with the smoke; it just made everything flow like water. 

"That, and yer so good at healin' our clients, baby doll. Vox n'I couldn't make bank without cha." Valentino cupped his cheek with one claw, devoid of any emotion. "If ya didn't, ya'd go back to hookin'." The door slowly closed behind him, and only his obnoxious perfume remained. Angel expected it to last for a day at least--even two. 

He sighed. Was it too much to ask to have something that was solely his?

Well. This was _Valentino_ , after all.

The porn star might've been the highest paid escort in hell, but sometimes, even _he_ wondered if a hit of Val's red smoke was worth all the bullshit he went through. 

The text comes through in seconds.

  
**"Two hours. The hit I gave ya's worth at least one."**

Whoever paid for him that night must've been _especially_ important, for Valentino to be so generous. When the smoke started to slither into the darker corners of his mind, Angel Dust tied the sash of his silk robe into a neat ribbon and prepared for the memory to take him wherever.

* * *

It's a good snapshot today. He's nineteen and inside his family's old townhouse. Only his bedroom light is on, because _of course it is._ Against his parents' wishes, Anthony had dyed the tips of his hair pink. He enjoyed skirting on the edges of the rules at the prestigious academy whenever he could. It wasn't like it mattered, in the long run.

 _"All Dad had to do was donate another fancy new wing anyway, n' the rules no longer applied to me."_ The thought returned and punched him in the gut. He'd forgotten how irritated he'd been when money had been the answer to making 'problems' disappear. 

Funny how some things never changed, even in hell.

Even within the memory, Angel's claws gripped his arms. Tiny pinpricks of blood dripped down his fur. The escort watched as his teenaged self highlighted a passage in his Forensics Toxicology textbook. Ah, yes. His future contribution to his family's business. It _had_ been a lot of fun, before he turned to other vices. 

Anthony seemed to be waiting for something. He was reading and taking notes, but every now and then he'd look up toward the window. Or someone. The spider escort watched as he earnestly studied the material, even drawing what the body would look like after a certain poison fully manifested its' symptoms in various organs. In the background, there was a radio that played songs from the local station.

Suddenly, a rock was thrown at his closed bedroom window. He saw it through the curtains. A faint smile crossed Anthony's lips, and he marked his place in the book with a business card. He toed his shoes off and pulled on a pair of socks with deer antlers printed all over them. 

The business card was for a radio station--the only one in their small town. He leaned over and tried to read it, invisible as he was to his human self. "Hosted by A..." Damn. The words were too faded to read, but the card was worn out in a loving kind of way. Whoever the person was, he must've been a huge fan of them.

He watched as the window was pushed open and Anthony climbed out as if it were ingrained in him. Angel chuckled. The skills his dad taught himself, Frankie, and Molly came in handy. 

In the corner, his radio--the only witness--played a cute song he hadn't thought about in years. 

_I try to work up the nerve_   
_Hope to God I don't stutter_   
_My thrown together letters_   
_Never end up as words_

* * *

Anthony had been smiling at someone with a motorbike. He had a helmet on, and it shone a dark red in the moonlight. The visor was flipped up and Angel almost forgot to breathe. Eyes darker than a raven's wing glittered with mischief behind a pair of eyeglasses. 

"Ready to go?" Angel barely heard the words, but the smoke heightened all his senses. Anthony grabbed a pair of shoes from the bushes nearby and nodded, excited. Another helmet was procured and he wore it with a pout, but his mood improved when the rider gently knocked his helmet against his. 

_"Wow. Fucking adorable."_ Angel thought. He came along for the ride, sitting on the motorbike delivery box. The vehicle purred quietly past his parents' house and when they were further away from it, started to gain speed. Anthony held onto the driver's waist and Angel felt contentment and freedom. 

Angel Dust had to wipe a tear from his eye as he heard his younger self laughing as the bike drove away from their town toward the nearby beach.

* * *

Here, Angel Dust chose to fully enter the memory. The smoke had the unfortunate side effect of making him horny as fuck, and the second the driver's helmet was tossed to one side of the rented bungalow, he was lost. 

Tall, dark, and handsome. When he removed his leather jacket, the driver was just wearing distressed jeans, nipples pebbling in the cool salt breeze beneath his white tank top. _God, his younger self had taste._

 _And that smile._ It was the grin of someone who was stupidly in love, and his eyes followed Angel's lips as he wet them with his tongue. Everything he'd ever wanted while he was alive, and even now. Angel wasn't about to pass this opportunity up. The emotions surging through his younger self were electric. 

"Feeling shy tonight?" He asked, and the smooth rumble of his voice made Angel feel like he was a newborn fawn. "No fuckin' way," Angel murmured softly, a breath away from the driver's lips. "Just...admirin' the view."

He thinks he murmurs the driver's name, but it was swallowed up by the sound of Anthony's blood rushing to his cheeks. Outside, the waves softly kissed the sandy shoreline, and suddenly the heat was too much to bear. Angel Dust--Anthony--wanted to feel him closer, skin on skin.

Before Angel could push forward, the other man gently cupped the back of his neck and helped him along.

"Mmm," instead of the taste of menthol-laced aphrodisiacs, there's spicy chai and vanilla. It's a rare packet of cigarettes that Angel's sure he'll never forget, long after the memory had disappeared.

His tongue was soft but wasn't insistent, and simply waited. Angel's heart hammered triple-time as he parts his lips, and is backed up against the wall of the bungalow. 

When his lover entwined their fingers together, Angel knew that was when the tears started. Warm, soft, and gentle. 

It was a far cry from anything he'd ever felt before, and since then. 

But to be able to revisit it, knowing what he knew now? 

_God fucking damn it_. He wanted more of these moments, twice as much.

* * *

Now, Angel knew he could exit his younger self's body any time he wanted. It made no difference--it was just a memory, after all. But when his lover (surely that was what he was--these feelings were too intense to be a meaningless one-night stand) unzipped his jeans, Angel Dust was on his knees in seconds. 

In truth, he had no idea when they started to undress, but he was so glad for it. One part of Angel wanted to exit so he could touch himself and watch, but a larger part (his cock, maybe) wanted to sink in the memory. Bring something back to his very real life, where men used his body and believed he could piece himself back together. 

He had less hands, but there was this man, and he was currently gazing down at Anthony's body like he wanted to devour him whole. "Pet," that velvety voice again, and strong fingers reached out to caress his cheek. 

"Perfection incarnate," he purred, as Anthony nuzzled against his palm, kissing the inside. "The world knows you as a good boy, but here...you know what you are, don't you?" 

He looked up through thick lashes, through heterochromatic eyes that glittered in the dim light of the room. "'Course I do, daddy," he said, with none of the bitterness and hatred for the word. "I'm yours." 

A deep moan answered him, and the hand on his cheek moved to his hair. "That's a good boy. Now make daddy proud."

 _"Oh my fucking god."_ If he'd had a man like this down in hell, Angel would've never turned to porn in the first place. 

Unless his man would be into that. 

The thought filled Angel with shame and he felt himself thicken in his panties--one thing that never changed between him and his younger self. 

_"They make me feel pretty,"_ He recalled, whispered hotly against someone's lips at his first honor's class party. _"Like I could be someone's princess."_

Anthony knew it would be big from the bulge, but not _this_ big. Or thick. He looked up again, into dark eyes dilated with desire. The glasses hid nothing, and this man's musk was driving him _insane_.  
He was already bouncing slightly, needy as all heck. "Anthony," his lover said, a little impatient now. "Just like I taught you." It was meant to be authoritative, but he caught the undertow of desperation. 

And that.

 _That_ was what he had been waiting for. So Anthony parted his spit-slick lips and pressed a kiss to his slit. It's warm and velvety, and on instinct, his tongue lapped up each bead of pre-cum. The salty tang of it hits his palate just right, and a hunger he'd never known before awakened that night--

Angel was very sure about that.

His escort-self felt all the sensations, sharing the moment with his younger self. After he'd sufficiently wet the head of his lover's cock and gathered enough pre-cum and saliva, he looked up for a moment before he started to take it in fully, a few inches at a time. 

The gagging feeling is almost instant, and his eyes teared up, but Anthony is practiced, and wanted to be so, so good. He breathed through his nose and felt a warm hand on his head, stroking his hair gently. 

"Apologies, my darling."

The hand grasped onto his hair and _pushed_ , making Anthony take in more of his beloved's cock. His throat spasmed and he choked around it, but it was exactly what his love wanted. 

The hand let go after three seconds, and Anthony pulled off to cough, strings of saliva and precum staining the bungalow floor. "I'm sorry daddy," he said immediately. "It's too big."

"No, no," his love crooned lovingly, his hands cupped around Anthony's cheeks. Thumbs caressed his freckles, wiped away tears. "Trust me. It'll fit..." 

"We both know you're too much of a cockslut to stop now." The man's thumb entered Anthony's mouth and he sucked on it, while his teeth gently scraped across the tip. 

"So insatiable..." he murmured as a chuckle rose from his throat. "Now, once more, from the top?" 

Anthony nodded and with a deep breath, swallowed his lover's cock until he felt it hit the back of his throat. "God, Anthony, you're so fuckin' _perfect_." His lover had an accent that Angel couldn't quite place, but loved it immensely. 

When he felt his love's hand caress his throat _and stay there_ , he belatedly realized: 

_"--he's feelin' me swallow him."_ He moaned around the cock around his throat and tried to keep breathing through his nose, but it was a futile attempt. Anthony eventually reached the base of his love's cock, and almost came on the spot when his beloved said:

"I can feel every inch of it from here, baby. You're so, so good for me." The hand on his throat drew a long, long line as he said it, the words too obscene to be real. Anthony felt two fingers stop just below his collarbone and _pushed_. it caused him to gag and pull off of his love's cock completely. 

It was dripping in saliva and Anthony felt utterly _wrecked._

His lover only gave him a few moments to rest before his hands gripped onto Anthony's hair and started thrusting, fucking into his mouth at a quick and punishing pace. He was almost there, impatient, and Anthony could only hold onto the back of his lover's upper thighs, nails raking downward.

Anthony's throat was fucked even _harder_ after that. "My bratty angel," came the smooth voice, tight with desire. Even within his younger self, Angel could almost imagine the raspiness of his voice afterward. The sounds of his cock leaving Anthony's throat was sloppy and obscene, the loudness magnified by their surroundings. 

Here he was, top of his class, third year in university. Anthony knew how to hunt, fish, and identify several poisonous (and edible) herbs. He was here, on his knees, getting his throat fucked by a man he loved. In the middle of it all, Anthony's hand pumped his own cock in time to his lover's thrusts, and the pleasure heightened tenfold.

_"I want to finish when he does."_

With one last thrust and a moan of Anthony's name, his lover came down his throat. He swallowed and felt stickiness around his naked thighs and chest. _God._ Anthony was convinced he'd never get enough of this. Gradually, the grip on his hair loosened and his lover sounded concerned. 

"How long have ya been kneelin' there, cher? C'mere, let's get you to bed..." Anthony's knees protested as he was helped up, and they were slightly red from kneeling for so long. Still, he adored it--it was proof of what they did. 

Just like the taste on the tip of his tongue. Angel chose to exit then, after Anthony kissed his love and let his beloved taste himself. And not a moment too soon, as the red smoke appeared once more, to bring him out of the snapshot.

"I love you," Angel's younger self had whispered, along with the man's name. He received the same, sweet reply. 

(Angel tucked the memory close to his heart, to be kept for later.) 

* * *

The one-hour hit Valentino had given him was top-tier shit. In return, Angel knew what was expected of him. True to his word, he was in the company car within two hours and had worn a modest (for him, anyway) little black dress. The garter straps on his stockings had been a last-minute addition, and most powerful men he'd been with loved them. 

"If you weren't goin' to Lord Lucien today, I would've wanted a piece of you myself." Valentino said simply, smile widening as Angel crossed one leg over the other, taking care not to flash him. Vox sat next to Valentino and Angel didn't miss the way his claws wrapped around Valentino's tiny waist. 

"Y'know how iffy Lucien gets. He won't even _touch_ one of your whores unless he's the first appointment." In a rare display of affection, Valentino leaned back and wrapped an arm around Vox's shoulder while another arm handed Angel a clipboard. The dossier of the evening. 

Lucien, head of the Lust Center's pharmaceuticals chains. His company supplied the Porn Studio's actors and actresses with painkillers for all kinds of aches. Whenever Angel had an especially rough night with johns, Lucien's Pain-Less Pill had him walking the next day.

It wasn't as quick as injecting speed into his system, but it worked just as well, with fewer side-effects. "He wanted some healin', and said only you would do, sugar." Attached to the clipboard was a tiny zip-loc bag of Pain-Less pills, just for him. 

"Thanks, Daddy." There was no bite to his voice, this time.

"Don't thank me, Lucien sent them over. Apparently he wanted to test the latest version on you."

 _"At least I got 'em straight from the source."_ He remembered the days when Valentino declared he wasn't even worth half of one pill and shuddered. Getting promoted from a whore to a high-class escort did have its perks.

Even if Valentino had been his Patient Zero.

"I'll be sure to heal him up real nice, then."

* * *

The speakeasy was exceptionally extravagant, even for Dahmer Avenue. Angel Dust followed Valentino and Vox through the haze of cigar smoke, perfume, sweat, and sin. At one point, he thought he saw someone thrust his glass into a champagne fountain and drink from it.

Whoever owned the establishment clearly had taste, from the decor down to the music. The performer of the evening was a female demon who had a voice smoother than her velvet dress, and Angel hoped to enjoy her singing after his infernal occupation was done.

_"Mona Lisa, I'd pay to see you frown..."_

* * *

"Lord Lucien?" Valentino extended a hand toward a stag with exceptionally impressive antlers, wearing a three-piece suit and seated in the VIP room like he owned the joint. Behind him were two bodyguards. Lucien nodded and shook his hand--gold sparks flew from the initial contact, and immediately relaxed. When the stag gestured for them to sit, he had eyes only for Angel Dust. 

"Can he really do it? Heal me?" 

Angel felt like he was a butterfly about to be pinned and hung onto a wall. "Yes," he answered smoothly. "From everythin', Lord Lucien. If you want me t'do it. It's as easy as..." Angel Dust tapped his lips, pink and glossy beneath the lights. "Drinkin' from a straw."

The stag demon acquiesced, and snapped his fingers. The bouncers produced a two briefcases and showed them to Vox and Valentino. Within was _a lot of money_ and a zip-loc bag labeled 'Prototype.' 

"Leave us," he said simply. "I trust this is enough payment?" 

If only he knew. Vox lifted the topmost layer of bills with a claw and beeped with pleasure. His flat screen showed a demon firing a money gun and screaming "It's all $100 bills!" For a split second, before it returned to his usual face. 

"He's yours for the night. It was a pleasure doing business with you," Vox said as Valentino grabbed both suitcases before he could. "We discussed the ground rules earlier, but, for Angel's benefit?"

The escort had to physically pinch his upper arm to keep from rolling his eyes. Since when did they give a fuck about _his_ benefit? 

Lucien nodded and Angel wondered why his antlers were so fucking long. "A full healing session, with discretion at the end. I don't need my wife knowing I came here to...forget."

Ah. 

Angel Dust's bleeding heart softened for his marriage. He'd forget everything remotely painful and nightmare-inducing soon.

Maybe he would be a better husband then.

* * *

Angel watched as the stag spread his legs and gestured toward him with two fingers in a come hither motion. Without anyone else in the room, he'd shed his suit jacket and Lucien was wearing suspenders and a crisp, white button down. 

It reminded him of the man in his memory, and he crawled, smoothly, toward the stag demon. When Angel used his teeth to pull the zipper of Lucien's slacks down, he could hear the stag's breath hitch. 

"A-and I'll really forget everything?" 

If there was one thing Angel hated, it was someone who underestimated what he could do. But there was a tremor of nervousness in the powerful demon's voice, and he was a professional of the highest caliber. 

Before he wrapped his lips around Lucien's cock, Angel Dust looked up at him through half-lidded eyes. "Everythin' worth forgetting, sugar. Just relax. I'll handle the rest from here."

* * *

The first lick was _excruciating._ Extracting memories was easier on his clients this way, but rifling through someone's thoughts, feelings, and _actions_....god. This was why Valentino raised his prices for a night of healing with Angel Dust.

Though the escort was busy worshipping his cock, Lucien felt an eerie calm settle onto his skin immediately. It soothed his anxious nerves and all the fights he had with his wife. Minutely, he witnessed the bruises and the scratch marks appear onto Angel's fur in the same pattern he'd inflicted on her. 

_"Ugh_ , _he's such a jackass,"_ Angel thought as he continued, tongue tracing around the head and the underside of the stag's shaft. It was impressive and twitched eagerly in all its' glory, but it was attached to an impeccably disgusting man.

Angel felt the indent of a shoe print on his back, and the pain made him scrape his teeth--gently, gently--across the sensitive head. A deep, throaty groan answered him from above and hands roughly gripped his hair.

"That's it," he whispered. "Let go, Lord Lucien. Give it all to me, baby. I can take it."

_"I'll take it all."_

When Lucien climaxed, he did it on Angel's face, instead of down his throat. Angel could understand why--his wife could barely swallow anything after the injuries he inflicted.

Especially to her neck, the pretty young thing. He felt the cut. Long, sharp, and efficient--slice across his own neck. Not made by this man, no. Someone else made the mark, and did it out of mercy. Angel's own blood began to mat onto his fur, beneath the choker. It was a secret worth far more than Lucien paid for. 

Valentino would be so pleased.

And he'd get another hit of that delicious red smoke.

* * *

Lucien was heaving after the escort was through with him, exhausted and devoid of any guilt, anger, irritation...of anything at all, really. He wondered what he was doing in his favorite speakeasy. He looked around and across from him was a beautiful spider demon, smiling expectantly. 

"How're you feelin', Lord Lucien?" He asked, easy as anything. The stag chuckled and zipped up his fly himself. "Amazing. You're really worth every cent, Angel Dust."

"Aww," the escort replied, gold tooth glittering in the light. "Thanks, darlin'." There were cuts and bruises _everywhere_ , and fluid was seeping from beneath his dress. "I'll heal up nicely, thanks to your painkillers."

The stag demon looked a bit confused. 

"I make painkillers?"

 _"Not anymore you don't."_ Angel thought, and smiled sweetly. "Sorry, I must've mistaken you for someone else. You just...look so familiar." 

"Oh? Isn't it...bad to get your current client confused with past encounters?" 

A naughty smile answered the stag demon, and the blood dripping from beneath his choker was _so, so inviting._

"You gonna punish me for it, daddy?"

* * *

When Angel Dust finally texted Valentino, he was seated across a dried-out husk of a stag demon. His injuries were healing--slowly, but surely--and he'd gotten enough information to topple the pharmaceutical company Lucien had created. 

"Ooh, he really did a number on ya, baby doll." Was the first thing the moth said. Angel could barely talk, and just nodded. "We'll bring you to the car in a minute. First..."

Dutifully, as Valentino leaned down, Angel Dust leaned up and met him in the middle. As they kissed, a dark pink trail of energy flowed from the spider toward his monsieur. All of the information Angel sucked out of the stag, and then some. 

When the exchange was done, a bottle of water was thrust into Angel Dust's upper hand. He drank gratefully, and as he did so, the cut on his throat stitched itself back together. 

"Very good work," Valentino praised. He reached into his pocket and procured a small tin box of red cigarettes. "These have enough smoke for a couple days. You've earned it, baby doll."

Angel Dust took the box and put it in his purse, before Valentino changed his mind. One way or another, he'd recover his Topside memories. Maybe even meet the man his younger self had fallen in love with.

_If he was down here, anyway._

* * *

When Lucifer Magne received word that Valentino purchased most of the stock for Doe Pharmaceuticals, he sighed deeply. Lucien had been one of his old friends, even if he had been a little off-kilter.

"Another one bit the dust, I assume, your majesty?" his guest asked, as the whisper of a laugh track echoed in the room. "If it could be called that, Alastor. They're alive, but have absolutely no idea who they are."

There was an inquiring buzz of radio static, and Alastor set his teacup down. "Oh?" 

"Yes, it seems like they make an appointment with Valentino and then...poof. I expect it has something to do with their...urges. Of the deviant kind." 

Alastor placed a hand over his chest in mock-surprise. "In _hell_? Perish the thought. Would you have me investigate it? I am...intrigued by the proceedings."

"I think out of all the demons on my roster, you're the only one who could get it done." Lucifer deadpanned. "You haven't stepped inside any of the Lust clubs in awhile."

"Never have your majesty," Alastor corrected, polite as could be. "Between cleanup and radio broadcasting, why, who has the time to pop over for a chat with the harlots?" 

"It shall be your new assignment, then. Find out what in the seven circles is happening to my men, Alastor. I order it--as your king." 

The Overlord knelt down in reverence, and smiled as the x on his forehead glowed.

"Yes, my King." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to my Escort Angel Dust AU! :D
> 
> 1) Valentino's perfume is Tom Ford's Fucking Fabulous.  
> 2) Angel's is Dior Addict (2002 formulation)  
> 3) Thank you to [Trashy ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashDemonx/pseuds/TrashDemonx) for doing the virtual equivalent of holding my hand as I freaked out and wrote the smut. ;w;  
> 4) Still trying to find a balance working, but things seem to be settling down nicely enough.  
> 5) Birds made a nest outside my window, and it's been interesting to see bits of straw poking out of it. The cold months really are disappearing quickly...  
> 6) I love you to the moon and back if you get what the last sentence is referencing. ;)  
> 7) The cute song is "Uh-Oh," by Junior Doctor.  
> 8) Talk to me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/kyaappucino), if you like!  
> 9) I wrote this AU while listening to Postmodern Jukebox's version of the Ballad of Mona Lisa.


End file.
